Today I am 49 years old. That’s… weird. Not as weird as next year, when I turn 50, but still… pretty weird.

My 48th year felt like I was trying to cross a deep riverbed of slow-moving tar. I was trying to migrate the last of my content (Help Desk) into the new site — it’s not finished yet. I was trying to finish writing Curveball Issue 36 — it’s not finished yet, and it just crested 40,000 words. Ugh. I wrestled with terrible, crippling writer’s block. I paid off some debt, which was nice. There was a pandemic. PERHAPS YOU’VE HEARD OF IT.

All in all it was a frustrating year, creatively. Issue 36 has weighed so heavily on me, cast such a dark shadow over me, that I couldn’t really focus on much else… and I couldn’t really focus on it, either. There’s a lot I could write about creative despair, I suppose, but I won’t. I’ll just say it was brutal.

I say this now because last week I realized that I was about to turn 49 and I tried to finish Issue 36 before I did. I failed in that mission, but my failure resulted in breaking through that damned writer’s block. That’s not a bad way to fail.

Anyway, I’m 49 now. Happy birthday to me!


  1. Also you became hairless on the internet, and now the internet knows.

  2. Years ago we were given a coffee cup with words on it saying (in color
    and well done) “It took me 50 years to look this good!” I love it because we received it a quarter-century ago. Makes me smile.

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